


Will You Stay?

by Hex_Arcadia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Avada Kedavra, Battle of Hogwarts, Best Friends, Character Death, Drunk Sex, F/M, Good Slytherins, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Hogwarts, Moving On, Murder, Slytherin, Teen Angst, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hex_Arcadia/pseuds/Hex_Arcadia
Summary: Pansy was born to be a Malfoy. Everyone knew that Draco would marry her one day, and Theo was more than happy to stand by and let his best friends fall in love. But, what happens when the Dark Lord takes out his rage about Draco's failing to kill Dumbledore in a way that leaves that love stripped and bare? What will happen to Pansy when her heart is ripped from her chest and her future dies before her very eyes, and how will Theo keep it all together? Can he keep it all together? *ONE-SHOT*





	Will You Stay?

Theo caught her as she launched herself forward, holding her back as a howl escaped from between her perfect teeth.  
"Pansy," he grunted upon impact, his own voice catching in his throat as he swallowed the sob on the tip of his tongue.  
"NO!" She roared, "NO!"  
She fought him. She battled his hold on her, thrashing about as he very nearly fell to his knees from her strength and his anguish. Her noises didn't cease, and they broke his heart even more. Guttural, wounded animal noises tore from her throat, and her face was heavy in salty tears and sweat.  
"Let me go! Let me go, Theo! Let me fucking go!" She punched at his arms, his stomach, his shoulders. She kicked at his legs, his feet, his knees...wherever she could reach as she fought and growled and cried and screamed and died a little inside. "Please! Let me go!"  
Theo couldn't fight the tears anymore. They spilled silently over his cheeks and into her hair or onto his collar as he held her back, his strong arms beginning to ache. All eyes in the room were on him as he silently, and not without difficulty, dragged Pansy backward toward the large wooden doors of the drawing room. She was clawing him now, and he knew that he'd have to mend the shredded skin on his hands. 'That', he thought, 'would be easy'. It was healing Pansy's shredded heart that would prove to be nearly impossible..

...Impossible in the way that one was incapable of stopping the wind from blowing or the rain from falling. Theo knew that he would not be able to stop the pain etched onto every piece of Pansy Parkinson from marring her, and leaving her scarred.  
Draco Malfoy was her entire world. He was all she had ever known and all she had ever wanted since the time they were children. She loved him fiercely and he loved her with just as much fire. It had always been Pansy tucked under Draco's arm or wrapped around him or he wrapped around her, and it had never been another that snuck into the boy's dormitory at night after it was thought that all were sleeping soundly. It was just Pansy, always Pansy, and it was always Draco she sought out. It was always Draco that whispered out a silencing spell between the sounds of sloppy kisses and little mews that escaped pretty Parkinson's pouty lips, and it was always Draco that refused to kiss and tell regardless of how much Theo goaded him the following mornings.  
Even now, it was still Draco. She still sought him, and she was fighting Theo relentlessly so she could reach him. It was Draco's name that was ripped from someplace deep inside of her chest and rattled him to his very core...  
...It was Draco that she wanted, but it was also Draco that had failed in his mission to the Dark Lord. It was Draco that had begged forgiveness just moments before, swearing his loyalty...and it was Draco that had been silenced, engulfed in a burst of green light and laid out on the dark stained floor that sprawled the vast manor that held the title same as his last surname...  
As Draco fell, it was Narcissa that fell to her knees with him, mouth open in a silent scream as her only child, her boy and her meaning and reasons for life itself, the same boy she had fought so hard to keep safe, collapsed backwards, arms spread wide with pale hair framing his even paler face.  
It was Narcissa that crawled to him, expensive material sewn into her skirts forgotten as she shuffled to the body that had once been the baby she had carried within her. The baby she had swaddled and cooed to, had sung to and pushed on swings and read bed time stories to or cuddled if he'd had nightmares or kissed good night. The baby she had promised she would keep safe from all of this, and everything that had been meant to hurt him.  
It was Narcissa that rested her head on her baby boy's chest, praying to whatever God's existed to give him back to her...prayed, and offered her soul to the very Devil himself if Draco would just take another breath.  
It was Lucius who kneeled before the Dark Lord, eyes rimmed red and skin grey and taunt... refusing to look at the scene before him. Refusing to hear his wife's strangled sobs and broken cries as her voice found her once more.  
It was Lucius who refused to witness the very moment his family legacy and name died along with his only son. The moment that it had wept and bled and screamed and begged along with his wife while her sister glared with malicious intent from her post in the corner.  
It was Lucius who would, in later years, rightfully blame himself for Draco's passing, and it would be Lucius who would take his own life one night in a guilt-ridden drunken stupor.  
It was Lucius that went numb, it was Narcissa that went hysterical, it was Draco that went still...  
...and it was Pansy that went wild...  
Theo struggled even when the doors had closed behind them, blocking them both from the horror and heart break that laid on the floor within; blocked them from the nearly angelic looking boy that could pass for sleeping. Her screams echoed through the Manor walls, bouncing off vaulted ceilings and turning the halls into a chorus of heart-wrenching pain and broken souls. She fought him still as he dragged her up the large stairs in the main room, breaking free once and pushing off the landing only to topple down the steps and land in a heap atop the marble floor below, breathing heavily and whimpering.  
Theo had fallen to his knees next to her, his chest heaving as he fought to control his emotions for the completely distraught woman lying on the ground in front of him as he cradled her in his arms and rocked her with a gentleness he was not known for. This woman that had been his best friend since they had been taught by the same governess before they sorted into Slytherin together at age eleven; this woman that had always been so strong and alive, shattered to pieces as her only love had just been stolen from her.

Theo cried while willing her to please stand, please be okay, please follow him, please breath because she had begun to hyperventilate...  
"Please Pansy," he choked out, "please...gods please, I loved him too...I'm so sorry..."  
And he did love Draco, as he said. Draco who had befriended him immediately upon meeting him at the same Governess' that Pansy had been along to as well; when she had decided even at such a young age that she would be a Malfoy someday.  
Draco who didn't care that Theo was a bit quiet, preferring his books over the company of most people, even though he was just as rich and sought out among the snake's nest as the blonde. Draco had confided in Theo. His trust in the other pure-blood unwavering, and he had never even forgotten a birthday, even during this last year when he was lost inside his own mind more than he wasn't...  
"Please Pansy, please breathe..."  
Pained green eyes stared back into his own dark ones, glassing over as the bearer struggled for a decent breath. Theo felt like losing his mind, or his lunch, as he watched Pansy's face full of fear and absolute desolation gasping for air. His hands were large on her small face, his nose wet as it brushed against hers when he lowered his forehead to hers: breathing, breathing, breathing...  
"Match my breath, Pansy, match my breath..."  
And she did, her chest rattled and shook uncontrollably as she fought to fill her lungs with air, and his tears had burned her face as hers slid silently to join the dampness around his collar. Her sobbing was wracked through with the shaking in her shoulders and the quivering of her lips as she clung to him, her knuckles white and skin paler than he had ever seen it before. She was broken, and helpless, and he'd only barely put himself together enough. "It's just for her", he told himself. He held on for her, so she could fall apart and he could keep her from never waking onto a lighted day again.  
Her cries turned into painful whines, and she buried her face into his neck, nearly choking him with the white-knuckled grasp she had on his cloak.  
"Draco," she cried his name, broken and quiet from the vocal chords he was sure she had to have strained from her screams. Theo held on tightly as Pansy repeated his dearly departed friend's name, again and again, her shoulders beginning to shake violently the longer she went on...and Theo couldn't go on as the composure he had barely been hanging onto slipped from his shoulders and he curled into her, face burying into her shoulder as hers found his unruly head of dark hair. They cried together there, on the floor just a hallway away from the drawing room, as they soaked one another's hair and faces and clothes and robes in tears and snot and pain.  
"T-Take me to, to D-Draco...Theo. I-I want Draco!" Her voice was louder as she spoke the last part, but her breath began to slip again.  
So Theo slipped an arm under her legs and stood unsteadily. She was light enough, but he found it hard to gain stability and he had difficulty seeing clearly through the veil of tears that had clouded his vision. And he knew he couldn't take her to Draco, not ever again, and he knew that he would never step foot back into that damn room again for as long as he lived. So he slowly, as Pansy shook and sobbed and gulped air as she clung to him, climbed the stairs and began to make his way lazily to the wing of the massive manor he knew that Draco had lived in.  
He couldn't give her Draco, but he could try to give her peace, he hoped, at least temporarily. As he swung the bedroom door open his breath had caught in his throat as he smelled the air rush out to greet him with Draco on its coat tail; a distinct mix of spice, broom polish, and apples that hadn't changed since he was a boy...except for maybe the hint of fire-whiskey that had puffed from his mouth when he had still breathed.  
His room was how Theo remembered it, though he hadn't entered it in some time: large, open, and dark green with silver splashed across every surface and a massive black marble fire place that provided the only light in the vast space. A pair of shoes had been positioned at the foot of his large bed, and Theo had just made out Draco's Quidditch uniform barely peeking out from the open closet door.  
As he had turned to push the door closed, carefully handling Pansy, he had seen the photos lined on the tall mantel and couldn't help but to swallow hard as Draco's young, smiling face zoomed around on his broom (the same broom that lay across the wooden shelves in the far corner) had stared out from a frame atop the dresser. Theo's eyes scanned the other photos quickly: Draco's arms thrown around his mother as she hoisted a young him onto her hip, Draco and himself laughing over Wizard's Chess in the Slytherin common room their third year, Draco and Pansy clinging to each other in what looked like a picture that had been taken less than a year ago...  
This room, his private room that looked like him and smelled like him and felt like him and was him at this point...and all Theo could do was tremble and shuffle across the room to lie down the only girl that had ever been in that bed before. He knew the moment it had registered on her face, that she knew where she was. And she had felt the familiar satin beneath her when she had turned to bury her face in the pillows and inhaled deeply through her nose. The tears had begun again as if she hadn't been expulsing her very essence for near a half hour.  
Theo had been at a loss as he stood in his best mates room while his best mate lies lifeless just two floors down. He had been at a loss because the woman his best mate loved, the woman that he himself held close to his heart, was a sobbing mess in front of him. She had curled herself into the fetal position, face buried in the pillows as the sobs wracked her entire body and her fingers grasped at whatever might be left of Draco in the folds of the giant satin bed spread.  
He had been at a loss because he had never known a broken heart as Pansy was getting to know it...  
When he and Daphne had decided to split ways it hadn't been done viciously, no. They had just decided that beyond the sex, they didn't rather enjoy one another's company very much. Sure, they kept meeting in dark classrooms even after their split, but that was where their relationship had ended. Sex in dark hallways and dark rooms and dark corners...but what would have happened if he had to bear witness to Daphne's last moments? If he had seen her life ripped away from her before his very eyes?  
A piece of him would have died with her, he knew, and the love they had shared was incomparable to the love Pansy and Draco had shared. He had stared down at the small, whimpering girl in front of him as his heart nearly lurched up and out of his throat, and he had to cough to cover it up. He had never seen Pansy so vulnerable, so weak and flayed open as she wept and exposed pieces of herself he had never bared witness to before.  
Bloodshot eyes turned to him then, pain glowing from their very core. "P-please" Pansy stuttered, "don't...don't leave m-me alone, Theo. Please."  
And he hadn't. He couldn't have even if he had wanted to. So he had stayed, opting to drink himself silly on Draco's stash of fire-whiskey he had hidden in the back of his closet, and that Theo had helped him to procure. He had drunk, and Pansy had cried with her head in his lap with the blankets that smelled of a life lost wrapped tightly around her until her breathing had evened out and she slept.  
Theo had stared down at her, brushing the wet hair from her sticky tear-stained face. As she slept her face lost all evidence of the pain that he knew was hidden beneath her skin, and as she slept he let himself break down once more in his drunken state.  
Theo cried, and he drank, and watched Pansy's peaceful sleep, and he thought about the choices they had all made...and he hated everything.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Theo had woken up quite reluctantly the next morning. With a pounding headache in his skull, and a dry aching tongue that was eager for even just a drop of water to moisten its cracked surface. He had fought the need to open his eyes until he heard the soft pitter patter of feet across the hard wooden floors, followed by the rustling of fabric.  
Slowly Theo had pried his eyes open, glaring against the sunlight streaming through the open curtains. Silver and green met his line of vision, and the previous night had come flooding back to him like a wave that crashed around him nearly causing him to drown. He was in Draco's room. He was in Draco's room with Pansy, and Draco was dead.  
Theo had to swallow hard to fight back the bile that had risen in his throat that morning. Although he knew it was in part to the nasty hangover he had been privy to, the thought of his best mate's body lying lifeless somewhere in the manor made his stomach turn as he pulled himself to a seated position against the headboard.  
He was choked by the grief he felt, choked by the sadness that crept up his spine like a trickle of freezing cold water and choked by the cloak he still wore from the night before. He hadn't even questioned who had sat the glass of water next to his side of the bed when he had managed to pull the cloak over his head and discarded it onto the floor, and he was even more grateful for the tiny blue vile of potion that held the cure for his hangover, but sadly not his anguish.  
Theo had still been wallowing in his own bit of a pity party when the sound of pitter pattering feet carried Pansy back over to the bed and she crawled across it toward him wearing one of Draco's old t-shirts and seemingly nothing else. Her eyes had been so red they were near purple, and they were swollen and puffy.  
She had crawled to him without a word, and she had stared into his eyes that were bloodshot all to Hell, and they had drowned in the waves together.  
They stayed in bed all of that day; she was curled up to his side, he played with the hem of Draco's t-shirt and occasionally his knuckles would grace the skin of her upper thigh. They had talked and talked, and she wept, and he held her as she soaked his shirt in even more salt and snot. He had thought briefly, guiltily, that he was sharing a rather intimate moment with Pansy, and in Draco's bed no less, but the guilt had subsided the longer they grieved for the Slytherin Prince.  
No one had called for them that day, and only the house elf had entered the room to bring them food. The word from the small creature was that the Dark Lord had allowed those that had loved Draco to take the day off, though the next morning at sunrise he expected those who needed time to be back in tip-top form. Theo had grunted at that notion.

Tip top form...that snake faced bastard had killed a man, no, a boy...a seventeen-year-old boy on the premise that he could not murder a man that had inadvertently been trying to help him escape a life of evil. 'No', Theo had thought upon the elves departure, 'there will be no tip-top form'.  
Pansy had seemed to agree with his mental goings, grunting in dissatisfaction. "I hate him. I hate him with a fire that burns me to the tips of my toes."  
"Yes..." was all Theo had managed in reply.  
And he did mean it, that he hated the Dark Lord. He hated him, though he was not sure if it were tainted more by fear than anything else. Theo's mind felt like a swirling vortex of confusion.  
His father had promised him a rank among the Death Eaters, much like himself. Theo had never doubted his father's words. Never doubted his wanting to kneel before the Dark Lord and endure the agonizing pain that accompanied the darkness that would snake through his veins like tar and leave a mark of recognition on his forearm. He had wanted it, and the jealousy that had coursed through him when Draco had suffered throughout the night as the Dark Lord branded him seemed so distant now, and petty.  
Theo was confused because for the first time, following his father's orders, joining the Dark Lord, wiping out the muggles, torturing prisoners and killing them when he had to...it all seemed so unnecessary now. It seemed wrong for the first time in his life. Watching his best mate die in front him had shaken him, and a piece of the longing for a life of darkness had died right along with Draco. If the Dark Lord would kill his own subjects, then what kind of life were they all fighting for?  
He had also been confused because the girl that had, just yesterday morning, been snogging Draco was curled up next to him in the very bed that he knew she had snuck into the night before his death. And the t-shirt she wore had slid up her hips, revealing navy panties that she didn't seem concerned with him seeing. He was grieving his best mate, but he also found his eyes straying to the edges of that navy blue, where her olive skin was nearly tempting him to touch it to test if it were as soft as it looked.  
Theo was sad, hurt, confused, conflicted, turned on, angry, hot, cold, guilty, scared...he was a ball of emotions that he wasn't used to feeling. Growing up a Nott, he wasn't encouraged to even have feelings let alone show them. His outburst the night before had been the first time he had cried in front of his father since he was young and scolded for tears that had followed scraped knees or banged elbows. He knew he would be punished accordingly for his flagrant showcase of weakness the night prior, but right now, as Pansy breathed little puffs of air onto his neck, he just didn't care...  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had rained the day of Draco's funeral. A handful of chairs had been set up in the gardens, and the flowers had all been turned black to match the mood. The back gardens had been charmed to deflect the rain, but Narcissa had quickly reversed it with a flick of her wand. The Dark Lord had snarled when she told him to let the sky cry with them, but he had not punished her for speaking against his will and had opted to deflect it for only him, instead.  
So Theo, Pansy, the Malfoys, and the handful of their schoolmates that had been unfortunate enough to have parents that followed the Dark Lord had all sat in the rain, drenched to the bone and shivering as the snake-like man delivered a speech fit for kings.  
Theo cringed as the Dark Lord had spoken highly of Draco in a tone that dripped with sarcasm. He had nearly gotten sick again as he spoke of Draco's accomplishments. As if three days earlier he hadn't called him a disappointing coward before killing him in a room full of Death Eaters and their children. He had laughed after, as Lucius had begged for forgiveness to a man that had just slain his child...he had murdered Draco, and then had stood in front of the open casket showering him with gold.  
Open, Theo had thought, purposely to taunt them all and remind them of what he was capable of. Open so that those who had loved Draco could not begin to heal. Open, so that the rain would soak his body in another move of power for the Dark Lord. Open so that Narcissa would have to stare at the face of the person she had loved more than anyone; stare at his face, and weep over his eternal slumber.  
Pansy had sat in the front row next to Narcissa. She had stared straight ahead. Theo wasn't even sure she had glanced at Draco once the entire time the Dark Lord droned on, never giving another the chance to speak. She had stared straight ahead, letting the rain plastered her hair to her head and run down her face, disguising her tears and bleeding her mascara. He had watched the back of her head, unmoving, as he tuned out the ramblings of the Dark Lord.  
Pansy, who had avoided him since the day after Draco's death. Pansy, who had spent the past two days locked behind Draco's bedroom door. Pansy, who had not allowed anyone to comfort her, or hold her, or even see her until she had confidently exited the back doors onto the brick landing leading to the gardens mere minutes before the Dark Lord had ordered the casket to be opened so the "sky could cry for Draco," he had mocked toward Narcissa. She had simply stiffened her form, and watched as, with a flick of his wand, the Dark Lord exposed Draco's body to the elements.  
And so it had gone. The rain, tears, empty words, shivers...before he had even known what was happening he had been rushed forward to say his final goodbye to his best mate, given only a moment to conjure a rose to place on his motionless chest, and then rushed away again so the next person might have just a second to stare into the colorless face of the boy that had once been so full of life and vibrant. He had been rushed away, glancing back over his shoulder one last time as Pansy stood at the casket now, hand resting on Draco's chest where a heart should have been beating.  
Seeing her, seeing Narcissa, seeing Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Daphne, Tracy...seeing the faces of people that were mourning, it had all been too much for Theo. That, he had rationed to himself, is why he had allowed himself to disappear into Draco's room. He disappeared from everyone, and the fire-whiskey, he hoped, would help him disappear from himself.

So Theo drank. He drank, and he sat in the high back leather chair that he had dragged in front of the large fireplace. He drank, and he stared into the flames, letting them lick across his muddled mind. He drank, and he dripped rainwater in small puddles onto the polished wood at his feet. He drank, and he didn't hear the soft click of the door open and then close as the fire and the whiskey it was named for both burned into his senses.  
In years to follow he would question if Pansy had known he would be in Draco's room, or if she was just coming back to escape from the reality that Draco himself would never be in that room again, but that night he hadn't been sober enough or in his right mind enough to question anything. Even as Pansy had slipped off her wet dress, peeling it off of her damp skin as he watched. Even as she had stood in front of him, blocking the fire with her small but curvy frame, cast in shadows and taking the bottle from his hands to raise it to her own mouth. Even as she gently pulled him to his feet, unbuttoning his near fire dried shirt before pushing it over his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. Not once did Theodore Nott question if Pansy Parkinson had known he would be there that night.  
Even as she had kissed him, her mouth soft and hard at the same time, backing him up while her small hands worked the buckle on his slacks. Not even as they stopped long enough for him to step out of them before she was assaulting his mouth again with sloppy salty kisses did he once try to stop her or himself.  
He was too lost. Too lost in his pain, in the sadness, in the grief that he felt, and in the fire-whiskey he had drunk. Too lost in the way that Pansy sucked his tongue into her mouth to wonder if they were making a hasty mistake. He had felt the bed hit his legs, but he had not registered laying down on it. Bits of his mind that were too heavy with drink would blur pieces of that night that he would never get back.  
Only when Pansy had crawled on top of him after slipping off her panties and tossing her bra over her shoulder, pressing her full breasts into his chest, did he finally understand what they were doing. And only when she started lowering herself to the erection that bobbed underneath his green boxer briefs did he finally grasp the situation fully enough to stop her out of sheer guilt he felt for his friend, and concern that she might do something she might regret.  
"Pansy, we can't..." he had started, gently lifting her by the shoulder back up to meet his gaze.  
They couldn't do this, could they? Him and Pansy, they couldn't allow themselves to become confused, or involved. They couldn't both disrespect Draco or...  
"Please, Theo..." Her eyes had been shiny with tears as she interrupted his thought process, her hair still damp with rainwater that dripped onto his naked chest like tiny bits of ice. "I need to forget for a little while."  
The fire had made her green eyes glow orange, and the tears refusing to fall made them as bright as the burning sun when it threatened the night with its presence. That was what Pansy reminded him of at that moment, a sun that had just begun to rise. Her coffee colored hair was black as night as the rainwater darkened the long locks, and her eyes...they were the sun rising to a new day. A new day that she was desperate to see, and she had wanted Theo there with her.  
He decided to sort out the pit he felt opening in his stomach in the morning, but at that moment, as those wide eyes had stared into his own, he wanted nothing more than to get lost watching the sunrise with her and forget too. There had been time for over-thinking, time for guilty conscious' and brief fleeting moments of regret the next morning, but right then...right then he had pushed it all aside and kissed her again.  
His hands had tangled in her long hair, and he had held her head to his as she gripped the blanket on either side of his face. Their mouths had consumed one another, tasting every inch they could reach and burning both of them with scorching heat. And then, when Pansy had started to push his boxer briefs down his hips, he had only stopped her long enough to mutter "not on the bed" before they had rolled with one another off the edge and onto the hardwood floor below.  
And then, without another thought in either of their minds but one another, he was inside of her.  
He was inside of her, and he was lost to everything else in that bedroom except for the way she felt wrapped around every piece of him. He was inside of her, and her nails had left half-moon shaped indents on his shoulder blades. Her nails had left red scratches that trailed down his sides, and when he had pushed himself onto his hands, and her legs had widened and drawn up near her chest, they had made him bleed near the dimples right above his ass as he rode into her.  
He had bitten her neck, her jaw, her lip, her ear...she had bitten his chest, his collar bones, his shoulder, his throat as he railed into her. Over and over and over, fast enough for his hips to become a blur and hard enough to inch her closer to the fireplace with every thrust. They were a mess of teeth scraping skin, scraping tongues, scraping lips and cheeks and chins. He had watched as his sweat dripped from his hair and the tip of his nose, and had dotted along her bouncing chest before he had lowered himself down and wrapped his arms under her arms, encouraging her to wrap hers tightly around his neck.  
Theo didn't slow. He had curled into her, burying his face in the veil of hair that had spread out across the floor in messy tangles. He breathed in the scent of rain, sweat, of sex, of his saliva tinted with fire-whiskey that was drying on her skin. She had wrapped her legs around the middle of his back and had clung onto him for dear life, crying out loudly in pleasure next to his ear. They fucked wildly, both of them needing to forget the past few days.  
He had grunted, and moaned, and cursed, and ground his hips into her as she whimpered and her eyes started to roll back into her head and her toes began to curl and flex. They had gotten dangerously close to the fire, Theo could remember that, but how Pansy had wound up on top of him would be something, try as he may, that he would never be able to recall no matter how many times he replayed that night in his mind.  
But there she had been, alternating between bouncing wildly and rubbing her clit against his pelvic bone. And there he had been, his hands gripping her soft hips hard enough that she would find bruises in the morning, and lifting his head enough to suck on one of her tanned nipples. He had known she would cum soon by the way all her self-reserve disappeared and her control slipped away.  
Pansy bounced, ground, bounced, bounced, bounced, ground, bounced, ground...faster and faster, and Theo had lifted his hips in time to meet her and the room filled with the sound of bodies slapping and groans and grunts and curses. Their eyes had met briefly, and Theo had seen the sun dance in hers again before her head was thrown back and every muscle from her navel to her upper thighs clenched tightly.  
He had fought through the soft folds that spasmed around his throbbing cock. He had fought through, and pushed into her hard, fucking her through her orgasm until...until she had screamed out his name as her juices flowed out and over him, filling the air with the smell of her sex and the sound of heavy breathing.  
After she had opened her eyes and peered down at him, after she had started to cry while he was still inside of her, after he had helped her stand on her legs that were weak, and after he had tucked her into Draco's bed naked and still covered in his sweat, he had crept into the bathroom to finish himself off before slipping into his clothes and flooing home without a word.  
Theo had paced his room that night until the sunlight had broken through the darkness outside, and he had to close his eyes against it. A terrible bought of guilt had ebbed itself into his very core at the thought of how much he had enjoyed fucking Pansy...in Draco's room...as she screamed Draco's name as she came. As the fire-whiskey lifted its spell, he had worried about the change their relationship might endure after that night. He worried, and he grieved.  
They would not speak again, him and Pansy, until after they reluctantly had to return to Hogwarts for their final year almost three months later.  
Even then, when she had finally started speaking to him again and he had not avoided her in the hallways, they would not speak of that first night they had shared. Not once, not ever. They were just best friends again, laughing and enjoying one another's presence while ignoring the fact that their third would never be present again and they had screwed each other mercilessly in his bedroom.  
But then she had started sneaking into the boy's dormitory at night. She had started sneaking in, and at first, she would sneak into Draco's old bed. At first, Theo would hear her crying softly behind the green curtains, and then...then she started sneaking into his bed instead. He hadn't expected her to, thinking that maybe their one-off had been just that, and they had put it behind them...but then she had crawled on top of him one night, and lowered herself onto him all the way to the hilt. She did the same thing the next night until they had started having sex nearly every night.  
And she would yell out Draco's name every. single. time. she came.  
Theo had not felt guilty about it like he had that first night. He had come to terms with Pansy's need to cope with Draco's absence, and he had a duty as her best friend to help her however he could. He wouldn't deny that she helped him as much as he helped her and that regardless of the name she yelled, her companionship made him feel less alone and a warm feeling leeched its way through his icy cold veins.  
After they would finish, Pansy would lay next to him and he would hold her. After a few weeks, she had started talking to him about her dreams of leaving the world of the Death Eaters behind. They would talk about running away together, and she would thank him for being there for her. Behind his curtains, wrapped away in their own silenced hidey hole, for brief moments in the night, they were not two young adults mourning their friend. They were not the children of Death Eaters or students at Hogwarts. They were simply alive in ways they weren't when the light of day whitewashed the world. And still, still they would not talk of the first night they had joined together intimately; they would not talk about that night in Draco's room.  
They would talk about him in general, of course. They would curl up on opposite couches in the common room, talking and laughing about the blonde. They would trade stories with the other Slytherins, keeping Draco's legacy alive while avoiding the rule of Snape and the Carrows. They wouldn't show affection for one another in front of their peers, but it never failed that she would crawl into his bed late at night and they would once again make each other forget that the world outside of those green curtains was a nightmare. And it had never failed that she would scream out for Draco.  
Until one night, after the snow had started to melt..."Theo!"  
Her cry had carried his name on it. His name, after nearly six months of their routine. His name had accompanied her clenched muscles, and Theo had never cum so hard in his entire life. He had nearly seen stars as his speed had picked up and he listened to her repeat his name until he emptied every last drop of his very life essence into her.  
He breathed heavy onto her neck as he fought to steady the shakiness that rattled his lungs. Her soft crying had caught him off guard. Her eyes were closed when he pushed up onto his elbows. Her brow was furrowed and one single tear had slid sideways down her face as when she opened her eyes to look up at him in the dim blue glow of the charmed light floating above them.  
"I don't," she started, but choked on her words, her crying had grown more frantic, "I don't want to...want to forget him, Theo."  
He understood. There were 1000 ways he could have taken what she had said, but he had understood exactly what Pansy had meant by her words. He didn't want to forget Draco either. That had been his best mate, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel as though she were betraying him. He wanted her to know that she wasn't wrong. He wanted her to know that he understood her, and he accepted her. His best friend...  
"Shh, Pansy," he comforted her, brushing the hair off of her sweat-slicked forehead, "I won't let that happen." He kissed her forehead with all the tenderness he could afford as his chest still shook beneath him. "I'll never let you forget Draco for as long as we live."  
Theo brushed the tears that had begun to fall from her face, and he had sprinkled small kisses over her cheekbone. He had wondered briefly if his chest were shaking for other, more emotional reasons when she had sucked in an unsteady breath and placed small hands on the sharp angles of his jaw.  
"I love you," she whispered so quietly he hadn't even been sure he had heard her correctly. He wondered for a moment if the wind had whistled through the dark dungeons and carried words he hadn't known he wanted to hear. But then she repeated it, her voice more confident the second time. Even years later, as Theo would sit somewhere and think about that night, he would remember with vivid clarity how her eyes had gazed up at him then, terrified and unsteady. Her tears had ceased to fall, but her breathing had been shallow as she waited for his response.  
And he had. He had whispered it back to her, the words sliding over his tongue and falling onto her lips as he kissed her softer than he ever had. He would ponder the next morning if he had known before that moment that he had loved her, and he would decide that he did. He would decide that he had loved her for some time, and his heart would hurt briefly as it beat with the essence of the love he felt for Draco as well.  
After that night, they had started sitting next to one another on the couches in the common room. They didn't repeat their sentiment again, but Pansy would run her hand through Theo's tufts of dark hair with a tenderness they had never shown publicly. He heard the whispers, he knew that there were those that thought their new behavior was a bit strange considering the relationship they had both shared with Draco.  
He had worried for a while that the whispers might deter Pansy...but then she kissed him, full on the mouth and in the middle of the great hall. That was the day that he had started holding her hand as they walked to their classes, and if it had been a time still filled with balls, he would have asked her to go with him.  
Then Harry had shown up, in the same spot that Pansy had kissed him, and everything changed. The war they had known was coming, the fight they knew they had to fight, it had happened. The Slytherin house, at least the students that were not yet of age, had been forced to leave through the woods. He had a feeling that it was so they might not have to feel obligated to fight against their own parents or have to watch them die.  
They had stayed behind, though. They had stayed behind knowing that they would not stand with their parents and fight. No, they would fight against them. They would fight against the lives they had been raised to believe in, and they would fight against the man that raped and tortured innocent people and murdered someone they had both loved.

So they had fought, and Theo had watched as Daphne took a curse to her stomach that had ripped her open from the inside out. He had watched as deep red soaked her clothing and splattered the stone around her. He had watched as she had fallen to her knees, a slim scarlet hand covered hand trying to stop the run of red to no avail. And he had watched as she had fallen forward, face down, as that same river of red pooled around her and she had ceased moving.  
Theo had watched Daphne die, and Pansy had stopped him from falling to his own knees in a room that was utter chaos. They were not in the clear. He could not fall down. The Death Eaters wanted to kill them because they were traitors, and the side of light and Phoenix wanted to kill them because they didn't know if they could trust their motives. Theo had forgotten all of that when he had seen Daphne stripped of her life...but Pansy was there.  
"Theo!" She had shouted, her eyes wide and filled with concern and panic. "Theo! This is not the time," her words echoed his subconscious, "please love, focus. We need to focus. We need to fight. We need to, Theo. Focus."  
It took him only a moment to hear her words, but he had focused. He had focused on her face, on the look, she gave him, on the feel of her hand on his cheek. He hurt. He hurt all over from fighting. He hurt all over from fighting, and he hurt from watching Daphne torn to shreds. But with Pansy in front of him, staring at him and throwing up a protection charm around them, with her he knew he would heal. So he stood, and they had fought side by side.  
It had been the longest day and night of their lives. They had been covered in bruises, covered in blood, covered in dirt, and covered in sweat. Pansy had blackened her eye and had split her lip. Theo had endured a beating from one of Greyback's werewolves that he was sure would kill him but had only left him a bit broken before, much to his surprise, the Weasley girl had killed him. She had mended what she could of Theo before disappearing back into the dust for which she had come, and for the first time, Theo had found himself in the graces of a family he had once hated.  
After it all, after they had survived and the Dark Lord had not, they had stood among the rubble in the great hall. The smell of death was heavy in the air, but those that had survived celebrated as they mourned. Pansy had held Theo's hand as she stared at those around them, eyeing the Slytherin pair. She had held his hand, and Theo had held hers as they finally breathed in the new day.  
"This is it then, yeah?"  
"Yeah, this is it."  
"What do you think will happen now?"  
"I've got no idea."  
"Me neither...are you scared?"  
"Of what?"  
"Living."  
"Never."  
"Will you stay with me?"  
"Of course I will."  
"You're my best friend, you know..."  
"And you're mine."  
"I love you, Theo."  
"I love you, Pansy."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! Please leave me a review so I know what you liked, what you didn't like, and how I can improve my writing for you! Thanks again! ~Hex


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